Asfaloth
by Copper Tragic
Summary: Once, Glorfindel was a master of horses--but when the one he was riding spooked and ran wild, he gave up. Now a new horse has come to Imladris, a horse needing the Elven Lord's skill.
1. Bay Mare

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's note: All right, I am trying not to have too many stories going at once for this pen name, but this one is only a few chapters, so I am making an exception. The others will be updated, I promise, but not immediately because I am bogged with homework at the moment.

*****

__

Glorfindel was tired. He was not physically tired; he just felt that…he needed a break from it all. He loved Imladris, for it was a place of peace and serenity, which after his trips to and from Mandos he had much needed. But the Lord was becoming rather bored. In a time of growing darkness, there were no battles for the warrior, and he found himself drawn more and more to the stables. 

Glorfindel worked with unbroken horses, for most of his hours. He was the best with them, and did not mind admitting it. Just that day he had worked with a horse on a tether. While the others had tried, none had managed to approach the stallion, which reared and bucked like mad. It had been Glorfindel who managed to reach the horse, cooing gently, "Hey, buddy, hey, little one." The stallion snorted apprehensively, but did not rear as Glorfindel approached. In a flash the Elven Lord had the rope in his hands around the horse's neck, and slipped the knot tight. The stallion reared up at once, but the rope held. Glorfindel got out of the way before he was in very much danger. The others whooped and cheered for him. "Shush, you are scaring him," Glorfindel chided, and they were quiet.

"You know, there is a reason we all call you Glory," his friend the Peredhil told him. Elrond was leaning against the wooden fence of the ring; he was no good with horses. Glorfindel nodded. He knew.

Some times Glorfindel needed to get away from every thing. The strange thing was that those were not times when he would sit with the Peredhil and talk about every thing, and the meaning of it all; of politics; of love; of all the things men spoke of when they sat together and were apart from the world. When Glorfindel needed a break, he always thought first of equine company. He would go to the stables and enter singing, letting the horses know he was there. He would take a bridle but no saddle--Glorfindel rathered not use a saddle--and walk to a stall gate then hold out his hand. Inevitably, although occasionally after a bit of a wait, the horse would come, either sniffing at him in examination and caution or nuzzling him. Effortlessly Glorfindel slipped the bridle over the horse's head then led him or her out of the stables, mounted and rode off.

And on that particular day, Glorfindel had had enough of the other Elves, though he enjoyed their company often. He had chosen the horse closest the stable doors, a bay mare he was exceptionally fond of, and ridden up the path leading out of Imladris. He did not mean to leave, only to have a nice, relaxing ride and calm down from the stress of the day.

The bay had not yet a name. It was Glorfindel who would be naming her, when he thought of an appropriate name, for as Glorfindel had broken her this respect was paid. She had not been difficult, unlike the stallion from earlier. After a few weeks' work, Glorfindel got a saddle on the mare. Many had joked at this, since he himself refused to use a saddle. It had been the intention of the Elven Lord that when he had finished with a horse any that wished might ride it. In his opinion, he did this well.

Lost in thought, Glorfindel did not notice the slight rustling sounds from the bushes, easily perceptible to sensitive Elven ears. When the bay reared, he grabbed for the reins to stay on. "Daro!" shouted Glorfindel. "Daro!" The mare paid him no mind. In a moment of fear, she was again wild. It took all of Glorfindel's strength to hold on, and even that seemed to not be enough. He was thrown forward, and with a great mercy the world went black.

When Glorfindel awoke again he was in the Hall of Healing, lying on a clean bed with sheets drawn up to his chest. Elrond sat beside him. "Glor--"

"Where is she?" Glorfindel asked.

"Where is who?"

"The bay--the mare I was riding, where is she, Peredhil?"

His expression changed, as though he wished not to say something. "Glorfindel…she…she must have spooked. They found you, but the horse…I am sorry, Glorfindel."

"Is she…?" he could not bring himself to say it.

"Oh, no! No, surely not! Wild, but not dead."

"All is as well, then," Glorfindel said. He moved to throw back the sheets that covered him and fling his legs over the side of the bed, to stand, but could not. With a cry of pain Glorfindel fell backwards. "By the Valar!" he gasped, searching for air. "What happened to me, Peredhil?"

"She…you were thrown, Glorfindel, and then she…she kicked you just as she was running, she ran you over," Elrond said. "See, your hand…"

Glorfindel held up his hands. Because he had been given herbs to numb him he had not noticed that his left hand was wrapped entirely in bandages. "Is any of it permanent?" Off Elrond's reserved look, he added, "Tell me truly, Peredhil."

"There may be scarring. Your hand will recover, as will your legs. You will be as good as new in next to no time, Glorfindel, no worries there." Elrond sighed. "Though I suspect there was some scarring some where else."

Later, when Glorfindel looked himself over as best he could, he touched each of his bruises. There were hoof-shaped marks covering his skin all over. Each gentle caress sent a shiver of pain through him. He knew he ought to be thankful that he was alive. That he should be thankful, also, that he was Elven, for no mortal would heal from such wounds. Nonetheless, Glorfindel knew what had changed inside of him was, as Elrond had predicted, far worse than what had changed outside.

"Peredhil," said one Elven Lord to the other, "I will never ride another horse again."

*****

Daro = Stop (I think, sorry if I'm wrong there)

TBC


	2. White Stallion

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

Author's note: A blue moon is when the full moon rises twice in one calendar month. In this chapter, Elrond says that he loves Glorfindel--let me just make it very clear that the term "love" is in this instance used to express deep friendship and there will be no slash in this story. And thank you to my reviewers, I love hearing from you!

*****

"Glorfindel?"

The Elven lord awoke, hearing a sound of soft knocking and someone calling his name. For a moment he hoped who ever it was would simply go away and leave him be, but glancing at the window he saw a small stream of light filtering in from beneath the shade, and knew he had overslept already. He heard his name called once more, and recognized the voice. "_Peredhil_," said Glorfindel in an exhausted voice, opening the door just enough that he could see through it. "You have disturbed my rest and interrupted a very pleasant dream, will you not _desist_ that infernal knocking while I dress? Or would you have me going about Imladris in my sleeping clothes?"

Elrond could not help but grin; he always felt playful around Glorfindel. The blond-haired Elf misinterpreted the grin, and with a sigh slammed the door in his friend's face. Elrond stood for a moment, an expression on his face something a mixture of disbelief and offense, and then he began to laugh. Why was it, Elrond wondered in the back of his mind, that when the two were together, they somehow managed to act less like two respected and dignified Elven lords, and more like…more like what? Here it occurred to Elrond that the perfect phrase to insert here would be "more like the twins", and he found himself laughing again.

"There," said Glorfindel, stepping from the room and closing the door behind him. "Now, I pray thee, say why it is you have awoken me?"

"I want to show you something," Elrond replied. "Will you come?" His voice was light, but it held an undertone of pleading and giddiness.

"Dare I?" asked Glorfindel. "Lead on!" He motioned with his hand, and as Elrond began to walk on Glorfindel followed him. "And will you be telling me exactly what it is you intend to show me?"

"Would I ruin a surprise like that?"

"Honestly, Elrond, some times you act just like your sons."

"I had that same thought today…"

*****

"Beautiful, isn't he?"

Dumbly, Glorfindel nodded. Elrond had really done it this time. Some how he had chosen a perfect day, a perfect time, a perfect creature…The sky was heaven that day, a blue that proved that indeed the sky went on for ever, a deep blue in which one might lose themselves and fly, a for ever blue as light as air--for indeed, it was air. The sun had hidden itself, yet its radiance remained unblemished, carving a time of light and warmth. Even the air was full, laden and heavy with heat. Some how on these sots of days the grass and trees were always greener and far more alive. It was a perfect day, almost as perfect as the snow-white stallion, trotting slow circles in the ring.

"He is yours."

Glorfindel could feel his lip quivering. His muscles twitched as he fought to keep them still. The Peredhil had tried this same trick before, a few hundred years ago, and it had not worked then. Why was it so successful now? Why did Glorfindel's body and even his mind, against his own will, cry out for that horse? The Elven lord could not deny his heart…no. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I said long ago that I would never again ride a horse, _Peredhil_."

Elrond shrugged. "No one said anything about riding. Just a bit of work, that's all; you spend too many hours in idle."

"What business is it of yours what I do with my own time?" Glorfindel shouted, angry.

"You were happier with the horses than I have ever seen you else," Elrond said quietly, not telling his friend to calm down, a hint of sorrow in his voice as his eyes fled to the treetops, where a raven flew over the highest branches.

"Do not tell me how I feel!" Glorfindel shot back, then, turning, left his friend standing alone, the pureness of sorrow marring the day's perfection.

*****

Night fell, and a blue moon rose. Glorfindel had not returned, and Elrond had looked in every logical place and not found him. It was strange; no two people seemed to think alike. When Elladan was upset, he could always be found in the armory or practicing swordplay. Elrohir liked to sit in the library and read. Celebrían, on the rare occasion that she was in such a state, enjoyed the company of the river, flowing smoothly over stones. These were the last places Elrond had sought his friend, seeking him first by the waterfall, among the trees, and countless other places. And in none of these varying and numerous locations had the Half-Elven found his comrade.

The night air was as full as the day had been, but cooler, easier to endure. The eerieness of moonlight was not so strong as it might have been, but when the wind blew, every thing had before been so motionless that the rustling sounds were a whisper, uncanny, as though the Valar themselves had something to say. This spurious grace silenced any who trespassed upon the silent night, and so it was in silence that the Half-Elf stood, the grass whispering a message he could not hear, remembering days of old and knowing that truly, truly that part of Old Glory had not died.

As simple as that, Elrond knew where his friend was. Turning his back on the silence and stillness, the imitation gods, he walked to the stables and made his way up to the hayloft. He was not surprised to see a form of a seated Elf, blond-haired and tense, with his arms wrapped around his knees. Without a word Elrond went to his friend and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It took you long enough," Glorfindel scoffed.

"I knew you would wait."

"You know more than is good for you, my friend."

"I know too much and you know not enough. That would make us perfect companions, would it not?" with a wry grin.

"I do not need this horse, Elrond. Give him to your sons to ride; that would be far more logical."

"You may not need him, Glorfindel, but he needs you. You want to be miserable, and you are your own person and may make this decision for yourself. As I love you I will fight it, but after a time will submit to your choosing. This is not about you; this is about what you can do for some one else. Lindir said, if you recall, 'To sheep other sheep no doubt appear different. Or to shepherds. But Mortals have not been our study. We have other business.' There is none in Imladris that knows the ways of horses as do you."

For a while the two stood in silence, hearing the horses below snort on occasion or stamp their feet. Before turning to leave the loft, the Hal-Elven said, "I will meet you by the ring on the morrow."


	3. Old Glory

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof.  
  
Author's note: I apologize, but this chapter has only been edited by me, not my beta-reader. Please note any errors and I will gladly correct them.  
  
*****  
  
When Glorfindel awoke the next morning, the sun was rising. It was beautiful, turning the sky more colors than he could name--but it was not of interest, not to Glorfindel at that very moment. The Elf remembered at once what he had to do and sprang from his bed. Nerves had kept him in wakefulness until the late, late hours, yet he was energetic and ready to go when he awoke in the morning. Inexplicably happily Glorfindel changed into appropriate clothing, then left his rooms to inquire about breakfast.  
  
Just as Glorfindel finished eating, he heard shouts in the corridor. He chuckled. Why was it that two little Elflings could drag so when woken from slumber, yet moments later run through corridors with their teeth half- cleaned, their hair half-brushed, and, on a very good day for them and a very bad day for Elrond and Celebrían, half-clothed? The twins always had amused Glorfindel, and he thought that they always would. The two were just over twelve, about five years to a mortal. As Glorfindel smiled he heard a crashing louder than he would have liked, and at once felt two small forms clinging to him, one on either side. "Woah! Good morrow!"  
  
"Good morrow, Glorfindel!" the boys chorused, just as one very harassed- looking Elven lord came into the room after them.  
  
"Celebrían asked me to look after the twins this morning," Elrond said. Glorfindel took another look at the little boys. Elladan looked as though his hair had just been through a rosebush and was not wearing a tunic. Elrohir had the remnants of a braid hanging over one ear, though he, at least, was fully dressed. The boys flashed identical grins at Glorfindel and clung to him tighter.  
  
"Do not go getting your hopes up, little ones," Glorfindel said, detaching Elladan from his tunic and proffering the boy to Elrond. Elrohir hopped over after Elladan. No matter what they went through, it would be together.  
  
"Glorfy, you traitor!" Elladan howled, beginning to cry. Elrohir looked at his brother as if to tell him that he was very stupid, then plunked himself on the ground and began to wail, as well. Elrond looked hopeless.  
  
"Glorfindel? Help?"  
  
"I am sorry, my friend. I am no good with children." Glorfindel bit down laughter as he listened to Elrond try to calm the boys. 'Trick me into taking a job. . .'  
  
*****  
  
"I cannot help but wonder why it is no other could tend this animal," Glorfindel said as he met Elrond by the ring later that day. "Will you tell me, or shall I guess?"  
  
"You know, Glorfindel," Elrond returned, "when I used to come out here asking a question, you would ask in return if we were here to work or to chatter like a fool bullfrog. Are you here to work?" The white horse was standing in the center of the ring, shaking despite the warm day. Elrond motioned towards him. Glorfindel did not even grin, but placed his hands firmly on one wooden post and hopped the white fence with ease. He began to very slowly approach the horse.  
  
"Hey there," said Glorfindel quietly to calm the creature and alert it to his presence. "Hey, little horse, hey there, little one." The horse turned his head to face Glorfindel, and the Elf saw himself reflected in the huge brown eye. But he also saw something else, a glint of something: something dangerous, something feral. This was going to be a challenge, he knew. It would have been a challenge back when Glorfindel was in practice, but here he was, had not been near a horse in decades. . ."It will come back to you as you go along," Glorfindel muttered to himself hopefully. "All right, horse," he said, slipping a rope around the creature's neck--and then the horse reared.  
  
Elrond started, worried. What would happen now? He worried that Glorfindel would lose faith again, would be frightened back to the shivering fëa he had been. All the prodding and reassuring and hinting, all of the work the Peredhil had done to help his friend could be unraveled in a few precious seconds. Elrond help his breath, wondering if he dared to hope.  
  
In moments the horse was galloping as fast as he could, trying hard to shake off the rope around his neck, or perhaps simply afraid. Glorfindel had known to expect this. He dropped the rope as soon as the horse reared up and waited for the horse to pass him, then ducked out of the ring. "What are you doing?" Elrond asked, as the blonde stood and watched the horse run. "Did he surprise you?"  
  
"Horses, they do not surprise me, Peredhil. I know horses," Glorfindel replied without taking his eyes from the stallion. Elrond looked at his friend and smiled. Something had come over Glorfindel, something. . .  
  
"Glory," Elrond whispered. When Glorfindel did not reply, Elrond said, a little louder and more insistent, "Glory!"  
  
"Hush," said Glorfindel. "You will frighten him."  
  
Elrond smiled, and turned to watch Glory's glory prance in the sun.  
  
*****  
  
After that, things seemed to move more quickly than they had over the past few decades. Glorfindel could constantly be found with the white horse, walking it slowly around with one hand tight on the halter, whispering gently and stroking the horse as Glory broke him for a saddle. At night he could be found in the stable, singing to the horse until it fell asleep. The horse showed vast improvements. He whinnied and stretched his neck whenever Glorfindel entered the stables. Not a month had passed before the horse was as good as new, and so, it is a delight to report, was Glorfindel.  
  
"When I first started working with him, I was unsure of whether or not I was ready," Glorfindel confided as he and his friend the Peredhil. The two were laying stretched out in an open meadow, looking up at the stars.  
  
"I knew that. And that is how I knew that you were ready," Elrond replied. Glorfindel turned, and for a moment studied Elrond's profile as the Half- Elven gazed up at the stars, then Elrond turned to face his friend. "You yourself were doubting that you were unready. Things turned out for the best, I think."  
  
"Especially for him," Glorfindel agreed. "That horse had been abused before he reached this valley. Know that I will never stand for that, Elrond. If I ever see anyone hit or mistreat a horse, ever, I will kill him."  
  
"I do not doubt you." Elrond replied. After a moment of chirping crickets, "Has he a name?"  
  
Glorfindel did not reply at once, but sighed and shifted his arms beneath his head. Then a blissful smile came over his face. Just before Glorfindel fell asleep, he muttered, "Aye. Asfaloth."  
  
*****  
  
~*END*~  
  
Coming soon: "The Horse-Master's Apprentice": Glorfindel has decided that it is time to pass on his knowledge of horses. Two candidates arise, but only one can be chosen. The pressure is on Glorfindel as Elladan and Elrohir strive to win his favor, and to keep their bond in the process. 


End file.
